


halfway round

by catpoop



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Online Friendship, Pre-Slash, nice cuties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: They meet online, in the comments section of a video, and it all starts from there.(christmas gift fic for me friend MILA)





	halfway round

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dimplelegacy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplelegacy/gifts).



> sorry mila its so late im a Loser  
> also wow this is the first fic ive posted in ages... last one was.... end of november. sheesh
> 
> also the request was:  
> Could I have Shiro and Keith, as online friends? Keith is this cute guy with glasses who loves to skate and do dangerous stuff like walk on rooftops, while Shiro is a young artist who only goes to gym when he has time but still he has a body of a sexy god. They have never seen each other but talked for years. And when they finally meet, they are in awe of each other bc holy hell the other one is so beautiful. And I want one scene where Shiro takes Keith's glasses off, because he knows he's gonna kiss Keith with so much passion that the glasses would only get in way. 
> 
> i hope i managed to cover most of the prompts :)

They met in the comments section of a video, of all places. Keith barely remembers what the video is about, and he recalls brusquely correcting Shiro on something in a manner befitting of a twelve year old. 

He must’ve been… fifteen, then. At least.

Shiro, strangely enough, had responded with something along the lines of _‘Oh wow that’s very interesting care to explain more?’_ , which of course led to Keith attempting to impress the both of them with his trivial space facts.

No one truly appreciates a smartass, but in that conversation, Shiro had seemed genuinely curious and encouraging, until the thread stretched a hundred comments at least and someone sneaked in a ‘Get a room, guys.’

A room in which to discuss astronomy? 

Regardless, they soon switched to a more private messaging system, where Keith relentlessly spilled all the ‘nerdy bullshit’ that Shiro seemed to have no problem listening to. 

 

Now four years later, Keith still remembers beaming with excitement through every conversation, shuffling in his seat whenever he realised Shiro, someone _older_ , was lavishing time and attention on him. 

Their interests have now diverged somewhat, of course, because astronomy isn’t the easiest pursuit. Keith pretends not to have dropped out partway through his degree while Shiro pretends he isn’t scrambling for a well-paying job with his art degree. Keith types out a sympathetic reply. 

‘Im sorry to hear that.’

_‘Its okay. How are your videos coming along?’_

‘Theyre –’ They’re going great, Keith thinks giddily. It’s his second one, mostly drone footage of the dilapidated skyscrapers he clambers around on, and some shaky recordings of the wind blustering in his face as he perches on an anonymous windowsill. It’s relaxing, he assures, but even through the text he can hear Shiro’s worried cadences – _‘Why don’t you film from the ground? Why don’t you try something_ else _? Why don’t you –’_

He skates. Sometimes. Shiro’s endearing in his concern, so his messages are a welcome sight.

‘Why dont you go back to your artistly deeds?’ Keith responds, ‘or better yet, come hang up here with me’

_‘To rescue you, sure.’_

 

It’s not a heartbreaking moment, Keith repeats to himself, when he finds out Shiro is on the other side of the country and has no plans for coming over. This has been a fact for the past few years, but it’s easy to recall the hope that had grown with the first few months of interaction, of thinking _Finally! A friend unlike the people at school._

And anyway, a simple video call means Shiro can see the ground dangling miles away beneath his feet, hear the wind obscure the speakers, and contort his face into something akin to constipated.

“You like it??” Keith yells at the microphone, and Shiro’s eyebrows furrow into a vehement ‘no’.

“It’s… okay. How the hell aren’t you feeling scared?”

Keith turns the camera towards the thin ledge he’s appropriated for himself. “Comfy seat.”

Shiro whimpers a little. Now that Keith thinks about it, maybe the two of them ‘hanging out’ might not be so viable.

“Do I really have to be watching this right now?” Shiro pleads, and after a moment’s consideration, Keith hooks the camera back around his neck and clambers back down to that one unoccupied balcony. Shiro wheezes the whole time, only pausing when Keith plops his ass down with a loud smack.

“What was that?” He sounds a touch hysterical.

“Just sitting down.” Keith angles the camera towards the railings of the balcony.

“Oh. Oh – okay.”

He’s not sure why Shiro’s been so high strung this whole time, especially seeing as he’s only stuck to the sturdy-enough hand holds and ledges. No more sitting on pipes, because he’s learned the hard way that there’s not much rest _or_ relaxation a pipe has to offer. (He’d gotten a dozen or so stitches in his face and limbs that day.)

“No need to worry, big boy. I’m gonna jump down soon.”

“ _Jump?!_ Keith please don’t jump!” The voice in his ears might be tinny and of poor quality, but Shiro’s desperation is enough to make him feel guilty.

“Sorry, I was just joking! I’m going to… slowly climb down? We can hang out somewhere else next time, I guess.”

Shiro huffs in his earpiece. “Good idea.”

As he promised, Keith takes his time clambering back down, feeling for each ledge with his feet and taking a second to respond when Shiro excuses himself for dinner.

“Oh, I’ll – see you later?”

“Bye!”

Despite his promise to not be distracted, his mind conjures up images of what his flatmates might have prepared for dinner. Frozen pizza? He lowers himself to the next ledge and thinks of that one time they managed a passable roast chicken for Christmas. Or what about some stir-fry? That wouldn’t take too long to make…

In an unluckier universe, he would have tripped and fallen to injury and possible death, but he doesn’t need Shiro’s advice to stay alive in this one. He hops down to street level, stomach grumbling up a storm and mind entirely focused on what’s for dinner.

And as is routine, he chews at a limp sandwich while his free hand texts reassurances to Shiro.

‘Im alive!’

_‘That’s great to hear :)’_

 

There are better places to ‘hang’, of course, aside from atop a too-many storey building. That’s the reason why Keith finds himself, yet again, looking out of a webcam positioned somewhere beside Shiro’s workstation as he conjures magic.

“… and y’know, I found what has to be the best bakery here –” Shiro chatters on, sparing a look for the camera every now and then, particularly when he wants to make a funny expression. Keith chuckles whenever he looks up from his own ‘work’. (It’s an RPG game, because if it were anything more fast-paced, he’d be yelling too much for Shiro to get anything done.)

“Uhuh?”

“And now I need to find some way to send their freshly-baked chocolate croissants to you.”

Keith dramatically rolls his eyes, even though his own webcam is fractured to the point of no repair. “Don’t be silly, I can get those here.”

“Sure, but are they _as good?_ ”

Possibly, but the fact that he’d splurged on a drone means he’ll be living off plain bread rolls for the next few years. Keith hums nonchalantly. “Probably.”

“Hm.” Shiro sounds unimpressed. “Well, I’ll lure you into coming here one way or another, Kogane.”

“And then?”

“Coerce you into buying me one of everything from the bakery.”

Keith barks a laugh, wondering if Lance is going to pop in at any moment and tell him to can it. “What if I get over there and realise I don’t actually want to spend any time with you?”

Shiro’s pout is audible. “And starve me of my croissants? You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, big boy.”

 

 _And boy_ , Keith thinks, _is he big._ With most of their communication limited to text and face-camming, it makes sense that they’ve never really seen each other. Well, Shiro might’ve, if he dared to watch any of Keith’s rooftopping videos. 

But anyway, continuing in the original line of thought, Keith finds out one day that Shiro’s not only six foot-something ridiculous, but he’s also pretty _goddamn_ ripped. He sputters into his lunchtime coffee as his eyes do a frantic scan of the image in front of him: Shiro’s chest, clad in what looks like a wet, paint-stained shirt.

 _‘Fuck!’_ , reads the succinct caption.

 _Fuck indeed,_ Keith silently repeats to himself, wondering how any item of clothing can be so sheer as to look like – like the man’s _naked_. He gulps down the rest of his coffee, burning his throat in the process, and immediately wonders if he can afford a 2-day roadtrip on little to no cash.

 _In fact, Shiro, I’ll buy you all the croissants you’ll ever want,_ Keith amends in his head, _You just have to stay shirtless the entire time you’re eating them._

And then he immediately slaps himself in the face for thinking such crude thoughts about a friend. He’s just a… friend who happens to have muscles. Muscle friend. A big… muscle boy. Keith has muscles of his own, but they’re nothing compared to Shiro’s abs of steel. He types out a hurried ‘oh no’ and exits the conversation before any of his flatmates notice what he’s staring at.

Phew. That was one disaster avoided. The other disasters, however, immediately pop up when he settles into the privacy of his room and shakily navigates his phone.

Why didn’t Shiro splatter paint all over his camera too? Keith nearly growls in frustration as he ogles the crystal clear picture again. Their conversation quickly turns back to the regular banter, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that he can scroll up to the picture, or better yet, set it as his wallpaper. 

He loudly clears his throat in the silence of his room.

 

Maybe it’s just his too-active brain, but Keith starts finding it difficult to maintain any kind of conversation with Shiro without the entire _‘holy shit he’s sculpted like a Greek god’_ thing popping up every now and then. And anyway, Shiro’s personality hasn’t changed at all: he’s still kind and caring and funny to a fault, so Keith tries to stop admiration/unnecessary innuendo (à la Lance) from leaking through. 

Shiro’s _too_ kind, in fact, worriedly asking after him every other minute when he badly sprains an ankle in a reckless fall. 

‘Im in bed its ok’, Keith responds for the millionth time.

_‘Do you need painkillers? Are you sure it’s not broken?’_

‘its ok’

_‘When are you going to go back to rooftopping? I know it means a lot to you’_

‘ill be okay :)’, he quickly replies, but all the while he’s trying to figure out how to heck Shiro’s okay with him continuing in the future. 

Too kind, he tells himself. Far too kind.

 

It’s because of and for this kindness that Keith eventually scrapes together the funds to visit Shiro. He’s just… the closest thing Keith has had to a brother, even if Lance addresses him with a drawled ‘brooo’ every now and then. It would be a shame to keep their relationship online only.

Shiro sounds quite startled when Keith makes the announcement.

‘Im on the highway rn’

_‘Wait, right now? Keith are you driving??’_

‘Yeah’

_‘KEITH DONT YOU DARE TEXT ME WHILE YOURE DRIVING’_

A little annoyed, Keith lobs his phone into the seat beside him and settles both hands on the wheel. Shiro’s right, of course, so he waits until the next stop to tap out a little message.

‘See you in a day or two. Wont be texting while i drive but theres plenty of places to stop’

He chews at the melted granola bar in his hand as Shiro formulates a reply.

_‘Wait youre coming over now? Keith I swear 2 god’_

‘See u’

 

Shiro seems increasingly more panicked with Keith’s impending arrival, until they’re only an hour away from meeting in some café.

 _‘Ok see you there!!!!!!’_ , Shiro had responded with an inordinate amount of exclamation marks. Keith can’t seem to muster the same level of excitement (maybe three exclamation marks, at most?), but he’s still looking forward to finally seeing Shiro in the flesh.

 _‘KEith what are u going to be wearing?/’_ flashes across the screen just as he speeds past a yellow light. The next red light is only second away, but by that time, Shiro has already sent a few additional messages.

_‘Not to be creepy’_  
_‘I just wanted to know’_  
_‘So ill spot you in the cafe?’_  
_‘Yeah’_

‘Red.’ An exact copy of the hooded jacket he liked to film his stunts in, in fact. It’s not as tatty as its predecessor, and Keith hopes he can make a good first impression for their meet up.

Shiro replies almost immediately. _‘Ok cool see you soon!!’_

‘See you.’

 

They make eye contact the moment Keith steps through the café door. Maybe it’s because his red jacket is beacon-bright, or maybe because Keith could spot Shiro’s shock of white hair from a mile away.

“Hey Keith!!” Shiro exclaims at the same time as Keith blurts out a ‘Hi.’

There are at least three or four tables between them, but that doesn’t stop Shiro from bursting into another loud greeting, grinning from ear to ear. Keith hurries over before the other patrons can stare too much.

He can’t help his own staring, of course. He’d done the calculations and figured out that Shiro was roughly half a head taller than him, but those few centimetres hadn’t accounted for the breadth of his shoulders and the warmth of his hands. Keith croaks out a tentative giggle. 

“We should… sit down.”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

Their seats are opposite one another, so Keith can’t help but peek over the top of his own menu every few seconds to observe Shiro shifting around in his seat. 

“So,” he begins after a minute of awkward silence, “What’s good here?”

Shiro blinks rapidly at him. “The pies. Sandwiches. Pastries. I like the – oh. Uh, those glasses really suit you.”

“Thanks.” Keith bites back a startled noise. “I’ve been wearing these through all of our video calls.”

“Yeah, but… your webcam broke a while back?”

“Oh.” He’d completely forgotten. Awkwardly, Keith scrambles for something to say. “You – um – look good in that jacket.”

Shiro beams at him and Keith nearly has to look away. “Really? Thanks!”

One would think they’d kick off conversation immediately, but it takes a dozen more weirdly-phrased but still genuine compliments before Shiro remembers all the sights he had promised to show Keith and launches into a detailed itinerary.

“If you have nothing planned we can set off right now?”

“Of course we can,” Keith smiles, pretending he hadn’t made this trip solely to visit Shiro.

 

Maybe it’s the relaxed environment, or because he’s just clumsy, but no less than ten minutes into what had started as a platonic ice-cream date in the park, Shiro spots what looks like an eyelash on Keith’s glasses and _fucks up._

“Hey, you have a –” he touches the lens to remove the offending lash, only to smear an embarrassing streak down the piece of glass. “Oh god – let me, let me clean that for you.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Keith mumbles through a mouthful of ice-cream and somehow removes his glasses and polishes them to a mirror shine while still eating. Shiro can only gawp and take the opportunity to look at the smattering of freckles beneath one violet eye.

He coughs chopped hazelnuts down his throat.

“It was an, um, it was an eyelash.” He attempts to explain when Keith slides his glasses back on to stare at him in confusion.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shiro grins stiffly. _Don’t ever mention it,_ he thinks to himself, _because the embarrassment is consuming me alive_.

Thankfully, Keith seems unfazed, continuing to bite thoughtfully at his ice-cream as he brings up Shiro’s latest project, then pizza, then ‘I know you exercised, but how goddamn much?’

“Enough,” Shiro mumbles, while trying not to redden at the way Keith is eyeing his biceps. “Gotta stay strong enough to carry all my adult responsibilities.”

It’s a known fact between them that despite being only three years older, Shiro still enjoys complaining about the woes of adulthood, messaging Keith every time he suffers an adultly panic. 

“Just live in your parents’ basement until you’re forty.”

“And feel guilty instead? No thanks.”

 

But in hindsight, maybe inviting Keith over to a basement would have been a little smarter than cramming themselves into his tiny flat. Keith settles into the only armchair as Shiro takes the bed. 

“So, uh, what do you think?”

“It’s nice. Cosy.” Keith gazes around at the semi-cluttered kitchenette, the ‘living room’, and the small alcove he’s arranged as the master bedroom. “No one to steal your stuff.”

“No one to leave sweaty socks in the fridge?” Shiro laughs, and Keith wrinkles his nose at the memory.

“If I could, I’d kick everyone out of the flat and claim it for my own. Except Hunk, I guess. He makes good food when he’s not busy.”

“Don’t forget about me when you’re rich enough to buy out the whole place!”

“I’ll never forget about you,” Keith replies with a solemnity that seems out of place to their previous words, and Shiro’s brain stutters a little.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Keith smiles at him. “No problem.”

 

The rest of the afternoon passes smoothly, the two of them crammed onto Shiro’s bed and flicking through childhood movies on the wall-mounted screen opposite them. It’s near dinnertime, which means Shiro really should start making something or splurging a little on a nearby restaurant, but he can’t find it in him to wake Keith. 

Black locks spill across his shoulder as Keith snoozes quietly, and a hard line of _something_ (his glasses, Shiro soon realises) digs into his arm. Smothering a yawn of him own, Shiro adjusts the pillow behind him and, after a moment’s thought, carefully removes said glasses. They can’t be comfortable for Keith, either.

Unfortunately for Shiro, this means he now has a close-up, unimpeded view of Keith’s freckles and too-long lashes. He forcibly turns back to the TV, but it’s hard to ignore the quiet breathing coming from right beside him.

It’s also hard thinking about waking Keith up. With a small sigh, Shiro settles further into the bed and mentally sets an alarm for seven o’clock. Dinner will just… have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> swummeng-geys.tumblr.com
> 
> please...... love..... me...........  
> goddamn why is writing so Difficult


End file.
